Morning
by Betsy Davis
Summary: A painful awakening, and no memory of the previous night. What is a captain to do? In progress. More to come as well as backstory.


AN: This story is K/S. This chapter of the story is lite on the slashyness, however chapters to come will indeed contain greater amounts of sexiness.

Paramount owns Star Trek and its intellectual and property rights. I do not infringe on the ownership of Paramount.

Morning

Chapter 1

Kirk woke. His vision blurred, body aching. Attempting valiantly to open his eyes, he groped desperately at the bedding in hopes to keep his stomach from lurching. He rolled his head across his pillow, pulling his knees up under himself, feebly maintaining stability. The room spun violently, tossing Kirk helpless back onto his side, where he moaned powerlessly. Pulling the blankets around himself, the captain curled up. Nothing came, when he demanded his mind to inform him of how he had devolved into this situation… and that filled him with dread.

As the newest (and youngest) captain of Star Fleet, as well as the captain of the _Enterprise_, Kirk had sworn to himself that he would uphold this position respectfully; nobly leading his ship and his crew through their 5 year mission, putting aside his bad-boy image in exchange for this honor that had been bestowed upon him. Kirk had endeavored to become a truly remarkable captain, earning the position that he had gained under such unexpected circumstances. For these reasons, Kirk only became further concerned at how he had arrived in his current position.

At that thought, it became too much. Kirk's stomach tightened, his head whirled and he emptied the contents of his belly immediately upon stumbling into his bathroom. _At least I made it_, he thought to himself in a frail stab at humor, as he wretched horribly, throat burning, and gasping for breath.

Weakly wiping at the corners of his mouth, and feeling faintly improved, Kirk opened his eyes. He was in fact in his own quarters, his own bathroom, for which he was eternally grateful to whichever deity he could think of at the moment. The sweat pouring into his eyes was thick and salty, a distinct indication that he had drank heavily the previous night, despite his lack of memory of it. His nerves were a-twitter, convulsing rapidly at the disparity between his throbbing fever, and the cold tile pressed against his clammy, damp flesh; his extremities had become numb. Sinking into the floor, Kirk again pondered his condition. Desperately grasping for a flash, a glimpse, any iota of information that could guide him to how this had occurred, Kirk wracked his head, finding nothing but a selfish search for comfort. After many minutes of pondering, the captain sighed in surrender, crawled his way off the frigid tile, back towards the bedroom of his quarters.

As he groped dumbly at the blankets, pulling himself back up onto his bed, Kirk became keenly aware of another presence, there in his room. It was startling at first; however the presence did not feel malevolent. If it was, surely there would have been opportunities for any devious entity to assault the captain while he was incapacitated. In addition, the captain had a far more vital goal in mind (that of making himself comfortable, and then not moving for a very long time), than determining who it was that was calling upon him at such an early hour (nearly 1100).

_First things first_, Kirk's mind decided of its own accord before inching his way up into his bed and under his covers. He settled himself, laying his head delicately upon his pillow, then allowing the rest of his body to relax into the softness beneath it. Laying there still for a moment, Kirk found that he did indeed feel more at ease. Exhaling deeply, the captain opened his eyes.

_Blink blink, focus, concentrate._ Kirk's thoughts advised him. Eyes still tired, hazy, all he could make out was a glowing white silhouette. _Assumedly the "presence"_, his mind self-thought. Moreover, this silhouette was not simply in his quarters, it was also in fact in his bed.

"Computer, lights to 1/3," came the captain's sore, rough voice. Automated illumination flooded the room, intensifying Kirk's already throbbing head and sensitive eyes. It took him a moment to adjust, shielding himself momentarily, until the pain subsided sufficiently, that he could see who it was that was sharing his bed.

Spock lay, stretched out in the captain's bed. Rolled onto his side, and with the blankets draped haplessly over his left hip, he propped himself up on one elbow as he took in the situation of his captain. Kirk's sudden rush to the bathroom previously had stirred the commander from sleep. Unsure how to react in such a situation, Spock observed the captain's actions, as he fled to the bathroom, expelling the contents of his stomach. Clearly Kirk was unaware of Spock's presence at that particular moment, as he proceeded to grumble absently to himself. Spock caught the occasional phrase such as "…the hell?" and "made it…", to which he inferred the captain was piecing together the events of the previous night.

"Spock… what?" Kirk half-asked as he realized that it was only his first officer he was in bed with. This fact calmed the captain further. Yes, he was obviously in bed with Spock, but, to look on the bright side, it wasn't Keenser, or the daughter of a dignitary from a planet with which they were supposed to be conducting negotiations. At that thought, how bad this situation could have been, Kirk took the opportunity to examine his first officer. Spock appeared to be naked, from what Kirk could see. His hair was also mussed, poking up on the left side; eyes puffy and dull from sleep, skin pale as always, yet glowing a faint but distinct shade of green. In fact, his first officer's skin appeared to be bioluminescent, nearly shimmering in the middle of the darkened room, as well as contrasting starkly against his dark features. Kirk took note how different it made him look from his perfectly impeccable state he is always in when on the bridge.

Spock reached out a hand, gently brushing away the sweat from his captain's forehead, "Jim". The name tasted sweet upon his lips, "Jim" he repeated, stroking his long fingers through the sandy blonde locks.

Slightly damp, Kirk's hair smoothed easily under the ministrations of his first officer. Spock's hands were cool against his heated skin, the motions were slow and deliberate, _grounding_ Kirk thought, the spinning in his head easing further. "Spock, why are you here?" Kirk asked, while at the same time turning his face, nuzzling into those fingers that eased his throbbing. Complying with the silent request, Spock allowed his fingers to trail across his captain's face, sliding the pad of his thumb across the closed eyelid, feeling the feverish heat radiating off the flushed pink cheeks, brushing delicately over the psi-points… Kirk, in turn, pressed himself into that hand which made him his delirium ease. Every place Spock's fingers touched, Kirk's body responded pleasantly, the throbbing behind his eyes dulling, fever cooling to a manageable state.

"Jim, I am here at your request."

* * *

AN: More story to come -- what happens next as well as backstory.

I mainly write on weekends so don't expect updates daily.

Read and Review.

KS Forever.


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